Dejected
by SheepAmongstWolves12
Summary: Peeta's actions have consequences for Katniss. Luckily for her,Haymitch, Gale and others are there to help her through and unravel the complex character that has become Peeta Mellark. A series of oneshot fillers for my flag story 'Melancholy'. Set during CF. Will be updated when needed and/ or on request. Read 'Melancholy' beforehand or you will be lost. Reviews Appreciated!
1. Chapter 1

_Hey:)_

_So I'm 19 today! Happy birthdays all round!:)_

_This is my one shot for __**complicatedness**__…hope that it's okay ish and also kills two scenarios with one stone (the kitchen with Delly and the conversation between Katniss and Haymitch over Peeta's sex life). Anyways, enjoy and Review as always, are highly appreciated!_

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"Katniss, please, sit down…"

"Haymitch… what's up?"

Oh Boy, how am I meant to break it to her gently that I not only need her and the boy to act all lovey dovey around each other again for the Victory Tour when Peeta is saddling up half of the girls in District Twelve, like a team of polo ponies, eager for the ride.

As Katniss sits herself down in front of the fire, facing me, as I decant single malt scotch whiskey into a glass from a crystal vessel that it harbours, the fingers of my other hand pinch either side of my nose as my eyelids shut ; trying to think of something smart to say. How can I break this to her? Is there an easy way to tell a girl that the boy who she secretly loves is that screwed up that he's on an endless downward spiral of self-destruction?

How can I tell her that I saw Peeta sprawled on top of Delly Cartwright; her legs hanging off the edge of the kitchen table, their mouths glued together, and his hands holding hers above her head, his hips grinding into hers during their antics? I hadn't intentionally planned on spying on the boy, but the scene in the kitchen had caught my attention too much to interrupt. Part of me felt exuberant, delighted even for him, the kid deserved some sort of normal return and balance to life after the emotional ordeal of the Games. Or rather, the emotional ordeal that credited Katniss with his survival, but also left Peeta has a shell of his former self. The guilt courses through me at the thought of our game plan…

"_Make the crowd love you Katniss, that's how you'll survive…"_

"_But Haymitch, I can't… I'm not like…"_

"_Then you learn how to make them… even if it means losing a bit of yourself… just survive Katniss… even if that means using the most dangerous weapon in your arsenal…"_

"_What?"_

_Her voice falls on the last syllable._

"…_Love, Katniss, is stronger than hate… I'm saying that, if you were to… connect on an emotional level with Peeta…"_

_Enough flowery shit, she needs it straight._

"_Look, Katniss, everyone in the Capitol is a sucker for a good love story… and I need to keep the pair of you safe whilst in the Arena… even if it's just for show…we'll even fill Peeta in on it…"_

_Although the boy had already told me that he was a goner… and everything had seemed so easy that way…_

And now how can I say to a damaged, scared and messed up teenage girl that the boy who claimed to love her was actually managing perfectly well for himself, with the help of other girls? Girls who aren't Katniss. Girls who are a quick fix to the irrevocable gap that she left in his chest; the scars of both emotional and physical agony that he had endured for her survival; for her sake…all out of love. Girls, who are disposable pleasures, and not meaningful pursuits; girls like Madge Undersee. Sure, she's the Mayor's daughter, and I meant what I said when Peeta was over, about wanting to get a leg across her if I was young again, but apart from boobs and legs, there isn't much to be explored beyond the physical aspects of her character. It only happened once, that carnal adventure, I mean.

I should mention to Peeta for future reference that I don't particularly relish the view of him chasing a half-naked Madge up the stairs, their clothes like breadcrumbs leaving a trail all along the floor of Peeta's room. At that point, I'd seen enough to know that the kitchen had been enough for one sexual encounter for young mister Mellark. I did see her slip out an hour and a half later, hair tousled, skirt crumpled from where it had been yanked up over her thighs. And now, the guilt burns brightly from within, as realisation hits me that it was my fault for this. However much they blamed each other for the fucked up messes that their lives had become, I was ultimately at the epicentre of it all. And now I had to tell Katniss, a kid who was just as lost and confused as Peeta, just as terrorised and scared, that the Victory Tour required the union between them to be genuine and sincere in the eyes of not only the other districts, but also Snow…

Her eyes are wide with curiosity; the anticipation of the last few minutes has been building up.

Spit it out, Abernathy. Spit it out while you still can. Taking a deep breath, and a slug of the scotch, the flood gates open before I can control them…


	2. Chapter 2

_Continuation of the one shot for __**complicatedness:**__)_

_I've enjoyed this Alot. Thanks for your reviews and Alerts: __**YouSaid-Always, SilverMistKey, jilhumph, Bright Lights and White Nights, justcuz123, Ldyglfr62, kismet 4891, katandwygar**__ and __**Ashley Ayoub**__._

_**SilverMistkey**__…Disneyand!_

_Enjoy:)_

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"Katniss…"

Her eyes continue to stare into mine, as the heat from the fire flushes against my face. What I'm about to embark upon is one of the most embarrassing things that I'll ever have to do. I don't even have kids yet I'm still explaining the facts of life to an emotional wreck of a teenage girl, who isn't related to me, and it still proves to be awkward at my expense.

Another slug of scotch disappears down my throat, the glass empty.

"Katniss, you're aware that the Victory Tour is going to happen soon, aren't you?"

She nods her head, eyes still fixed on mine.

"And you're also aware that you haven't spoken to Peeta since you arrived home from the Games?"

Another nod.

"We need the romance between you two to be alive again… you do remember what I told you in the Capitol?"

"Of course I do, Haymitch. Why are you going through this with me again?"

She's herself, irritated as per usual.

"Because things are different now! Peeta isn't your little lap- dog who will throw caution to the wind and follow your every word anymore! He's angry, Sweetheart! He's angry that you've acted almost proudly at the fact that you didn't even use your heart in the Arena!"

Her eyes narrow as she stands up, anger boiling.

"THAT WAS THE FUCKING GAME PLAN, HAYMITCH! YOU WENT THROUGH THAT WITH ME! AND YOU SAID THAT HE WAS CLUED IN!"

The scotch gives me the liquid confidence that I need right now.

"HE WAS! EXCEPT HE WASN'T LYING DURING THE INTERVIEW, KATNISS! HE WANTED TO KEEP YOU ALIVE, HE WATCHED OVER YOU WHEN THE CAREERS WERE TRYING TO SNARE YOU UP THAT TREE! HE THOUGHT THAT IT WAS THE BEST WAY OF KEEPING YOU ALIVE! EVERYTHING HE DID WAS REAL! AND IN THE CAVE, HE THOUGHT THAT YOU LOVED HIM TOO!"

"WE NEEDED TO KEEP HIM ALIVE!"

Her voice is hurt, trying to process what Peeta had been telling her, what he had constantly been trying to tell her since the Games were over.

"So you really didn't feel anything in the Arena towards him?"

Her eyes are processing all of this new information, as her head bows down, trying to form a reply.

"I…I don't know…God, Haymitch, I…I thought I did…just once…"

I walk over to her, and grab her by the elbows, looking down into her eyes.

"Katniss, the reason why I brought you here tonight is because you need to reach out to him. Not even for the Victory Tour, that's just a formality, but you owe him. We both do. Right now, Peeta's drinking and sleeping around; trying to patch up his heart, but it ain't working kiddo! He's a mess, in every sense of the word…"

Her eyes pick up, at the "sleeping around" part.

"Who?"

"Go ask him about it Katniss. I'm done forming strategies that fuck both of you over, Sweetheart"

"Haymitch….Who?"

Her voice is demanding, angry, controlling even.

"WHO?" she yells.

"Madge Undersee…"

"WHAT?"

"Sweetheart, what did you expect? He's a broken boy. The girl who he's loved since he was five years old just pretended to love him to survive in a death match for food…What did you expect when you got home? You were too scared and confused to mention that there were feelings for him on your part. He'd given up by then, Sweetheart. He's given up, and he's trying to find some solace and move on from you and the pain we've both caused him"

Tears slip silently down her face, her cheeks flushing silently.

"So, what do we do?"

"We do nothing. You need to make him see that life is worthwhile again, Sweetheart. We need to remove you and him as a romantic couple for now. Try re- introducing yourselves again, not out of any malice or pretence. You will need the romance for the Tour, but out of the camera's eye, you two need to talk, a lot. Who knows, you may actually get him back, if that is what you want. If not, then you need to tell him. But you need to be completely honest with him on your own feelings, do you understand? That is the cornerstone of any relationship, Sweetheart…"

Her arms are around me in a quick hug, neither of us particularly display affection to the other, but this is a rare occasion, and it's needed.

She whispers against my chest.

"I won't fuck up this time H. I promise. I'll get him back"

"I know you will, Sweetheart"


	3. Chapter 3

_Just a little bit more backstory because I feel like it:)Don't really know what brought it on but, this is meant to fit somewhere after chapter eight in Melancholy._

_Enjoy and review_

_**SilverMistKey**__… LMFAO!_

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The stag moves cautiously, his eyes surveying his surroundings; as he treads carefully among the ferns and leafy undergrowth. A deep breath of cold air hits my lungs, only to be warmed by the rest of my body as it circulates and I focus back on the job. He can't be too young; his antlers serve as a crown, making him noble and superior to everything else in the forest. Although this is his domain; it's not for long. A well fed, rounded stag will sell for a high price at the Hob, maybe enough to buy a few pastries for Rory and Posey ; perhaps a few balls of wool for mom to weave into something for winter.

My eyes snap back to the moment in hand. The stag drops his head to the ground, his nose plucking at the roots of grass, his ears flickering for any sign of danger. My bow comes into grasp; my palm scanning the smooth willow before drawing an arrow from the quiver that's slung across my back and lining up. There's a faint rustling of leaves as I draw back; the stag continues to peck at the ground, the tips of my fingers bleeding lightly from the wire. It helps me focus. It keeps my mind away from Katniss and from him. Him. The guy who stole her away from me. Who used his proclamation of 'love' as a method of gaining support and sponsors. But it hadn't been his fault entirely. She too had kissed him back in the cave, adding to the hatred that I have for him.

Only a hunter would hear her light tread. But the arrows dropped from my bow before I even see her as the stag frolics away into the dark of the forest, a fawn and a doe following swiftly behind him.

"Hey" my voice is stoic as our eyes meet; the unseeing, cold grey ones that are characteristic of the Seam.

She strides over to my crouched position, the early dawn hitting her skin under the canopy of leaves.

"You didn't take the shot…why not? He could feed your family for a month easily"

"He had a family… it reminded me of…"

"Of what…?"

It takes a while to gather up the words and the real reasons as to why I didn't shoot the stag. Why I may only bring home a couple of rabbits or a few turkeys and some squirrels if I'm lucky at all. They were a family; united and together, something that I've never had really.

"If I killed him, sure I could provide for mum and the kids, but that doe and the fawn…."

I can feel the tears swelling up in my eyelids, all this emotion that I usually bottle up is radiating off of me now.

"…I didn't want them to have no father or partner…I know what that feels like…"

Her arms are around me quickly, the silence between us is comfortable. We both know what it feels like to have to grow up too soon; to have responsibilities before we'd reached adulthood.

"So, there's trouble in paradise with …?"

"Why would you think that? Maybe I just wanted to go hunting and get out of that house when I'm my hair is being ripped from me"

Her tone is condescending and her eyes roll back, humouring me as we break away from each other, standing square against each other.

"Because you've all but forgotten about me, Katniss. It just seems that ever since you stopped moping around the house and hunting, Mellark has taken over you like some demon or something, and I've been pushed out"

Her eyes are apologetic, sad even as a gentle wind blows a free strand of wispy brown across her face before flopping down onto the ground, tears falling silently down her face. She sniffles a little before I bend down to sit alongside her, my hand placed around her back.

"Catnip…?"

"It just seems like I can't do anything right. Peeta hates me for what I did to survive in the Games. Haymitch hates me for being stubborn. And you hate me because I've changed. I've pushed you out. I've been thrown into this…this fabricated thing with Peeta that's caused us all to suffer for the sake of appearances and to satisfy the Capitol"

Her eyes meet mine and the pain in them seeps into me like needles into my skin.

"Gale….I'm scared…I'm really scared"

Then that overwhelming need to protect her overtakes me again, along with the hatred for Peeta Mellark taking my girl away from me. She'll never be mine. Ever. The best I can ever hope for is to be her hunting partner, her best friend.

"It's like there's a gigantic void that's between you and I since this summer that never existed before" I plead, my hands taking hers, stroking them with my thumbs.

I exhale, letting the knot in my chest dissolve as I contemplated on telling her how I really feel.

I let go of my hands to pull the hair out of her face, erasing the tears on her cheeks with my finger. Our eyes lock. Her dark hair is messy in its usual plait; framing her eyes, the colour of steel. She stares back into mine. Only then do I notice the little imperfections, the little scar on her right eyelid from an angry encounter with Buttercup. Then everything became a wild blur of colour and confusion.

My fingers stroke her face, attempting to hold her closer, to do what I'd wanted to for so long. Breathing becomes a chore in this heat. She didn't pull away, if anything she leaned in further to me, causing me to fall backwards; feeling the damp ground soak into my skin. Holding her closer to me, the muscles of her back tense up as she tries to steady herself, damp sweat clinging to the back of my neck as my hands pull her braid free. She's so smooth compared to the abrasive roots of stubble that grow on my jawline; roughly rubbing against the skin of her neck as I pepper her skin with soft, sappy kisses. I'd been caught up in the moment before I'd realised that she wasn't with me.

"Gale…" she gasps.

"Katniss…" I pull away, looking at her.

"You're not with me, Catnip…no matter what you say, you'll never be with me in the same way as you are with him, regardless…"

"GALE!"

"Look, there's too much around this right now. Too much is at stake for us. One day, maybe we can…You know… it's funny. Peeta actually had more balls when it came to telling you how he felt…I just wish I'd told you that morning beforehand…"

"Who knows…maybe one day, Catnip"

I press a kiss to her forehead before turning my back to her, walking away into the forest, hoping that Peeta Mellark realises how lucky he really is.


	4. Chapter 4

_Thank you guys for everything._

_Love as always…._

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"As a special commemoration, in order to mark the 75th Hunger Games and the third Quarter Quell, a different, more extreme rendition of events has been arranged…

Snow pulls out a piece of paper that holds the fates of this year's tributes. My hands cover my face, their heat calming my nerves. It's never easy. After years of training feeble kids who were as good as dead before they put a foot in the arena, the flutters in my stomach have never really ceased. Alcohol numbed the pain, the loss of family, friends, my girl…. all for the sake of entertainment. Year after year, the kids pass, each one of them taking a little portion of myself with them.

Then everything changed.

There was actual hope with the pair last year. Perhaps I'd suppressed their ability to survive based on the previous fifty kids, but as they progressed, I could feel bits of myself coming back. There was hope, a thing that we desperately needed, not just in District Twelve, but all over Panem. The young baker was of a different strength to her. He was compassionate and loving, something that wasn't weak or fragile. He's the counterpart to her; The Girl on Fire.

She was a complexity, an undefined, untouched creature that struggled to find her humanity and sanity within the Arena. She was the one of lit the spark of rebellion. She will be the Mockingjay; the light when the darkness shrouds over us all. The symbol of resistance; of the struggle for survival; the underdog that no one notices, until it's too late.

Snow's voice comes back on screen, his face puffy, a mountain of candy floss hair blowing lightly in the breeze.

"… In honour of the 75th Hunger Games, the Third Quarter Quell will be a symbol of the power of the Capitol and its kindness towards the Districts, and our continual forgiveness for the Dark Days. As a ramification, each District will submit two tributes from their existing pool of victors to fight to the death against each other until one and one only will remain as the victor. Tributes, we wish you luck, and as always, may the odds be ever in your favour…"

A reaping between myself and Peeta. Drawing straws to go back in and face what I've tried for so long to escape from. I reach for the glass that harbours my scotch; my body is failing from years of trying to forget. I know that I'll probably be mentor; Peeta wouldn't lose her, not now that he's finally found her again.

That's the way it's always been though. She's been blind to how she had hurt him and now, had finally recognised that she cared for him. He was lost, confused over her, trying to find out after she had lied to everyone else, how she had lied to him, how she could not trust him after everything that they were put through in the Arena.

My train of thought is disrupted as they stand in the threshold of the living room, mouths agape in horror.

"Haymitch….What do we do?"

They stand there, together, an unstoppable force of nature, their hands locked together.

The words form in my head as I sip from the glass, trying to convince myself that some way, we can pull off the impossible; we can win twice.

The Capitol grows to love their victors, could they really allow them to kill and rip each other to pieces? I know that Plutarch is head Gamemaker this year…the resistance against Snow's oppression has been ebbing for an occasion big enough to take a stand. This could be perfect.

"Haymitch!"

His voice is louder, angrier, yet his eyes are searching frantically for an escape, for someone to wake him from this nightmare.

I stand up, walking towards them, plotting this insane idea to save them.

"We prepare. We train. We win"

And then I walk past them, before I think of losing them again and this fierce throb in my stomach promises me that I won't .


	5. Chapter 5

_Remember chapter eight in melancholy? May just want to read it again for context of this, as it spans from there onto chapter thirteen! For __**Kismet4891**__, I'm glad you enjoyed it. Haymitch always poses as a bit of a mystery for me too as to how far he was involved with the rebellion. Thought I'd write this just coz it's needed and I'm On Fire Today…:)_

_KPOV_

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The guilt hasn't left me.

Even if it had happened after the first encounter I'd had with Peeta since we came home, and he claimed to hate my guts, I knew, I still know deep, deep down that I'm guilty. Two kisses, two very different men. Peeta had been fuelled on raw adrenaline and anger that day, yet I'd retaliated against him, giving just as well as he gave. The outcome of our efforts was a tangled mess of friction and groaning as we lashed ourselves against the other, trying to feel something, anything, if only for a short while.

Peeta's kisses were fire, bubbling under my skin in such an uncomfortable way, that at first I was keen to push him away. But that feeling, that slow, unyielding, burning sensation that he has over me refuses to hide anymore. Yet after this morning's debacle and the news that I'm definitely headed back into the Arena, can I torture him further with this? All this time, he's been battling the emotional walls and barriers that I've been trying so hard to keep up. And through it all, through the alcohol abuse, the hermit lifestyle and the frustration that has been pent up between the two of us, has finally been cleared.

Can I truly life with myself and finally be happy with the short time that's allocated to both of us, without telling him about that encounter in the woods with Gale after I left Peeta's house?

How much more am I willing to bet on the Boy with the Bread and his resilience when it comes to my own mistakes? Is it Peeta's anger or his forgiveness that I fear that I fear the most, or will he even forgive me when he finally breaks down and realises that I'm not worth his time and how truly despicable I am.

That kiss with Gale has left me even more confused than I had thought it would.

Gale is my brother, my hunting partner, the definition of trust and loyalty. He was my confidant, my freedom, my relief from Prim and my mother when I needed it. But as anything else, I'm not sure. Gale is passionate, fierce and strong; he wants to make a change in the world, wants to one day bring children into the world, something that told him I'd never be able to do. Gale has a fire of his own that is fuelled by hate; hate for what happened to our fathers, hate at what the Capitol did to me, sending me to meet me fate in an Arena all in the glorious name of entertainment.

The moment in the woods had left me startled, sad even as he reminisced about the stag and his family being so very similar to him and me. I did want to protect him, to hide him from that pain. Yet that brief encounter of our mouths colliding together has left me feeling even more muddled. He's never shown any interest in being anything other than my friend, and for all Capitol related purpose, my cousin.

Maybe it was just a moment of desperation for the pair of us; trying to seek some solace in the other, to share the load and permanent misery that seems to follow us around constantly these days.

I can't get his words out of my head:

"…_You're not with me, Catnip…no matter what you say, and you'll never be with me in the same way as you are with him, regardless…"_

Did Gale one day see a future where we would be together? A place that would be safe enough to have kids? Or is it because of Peeta and his apparent need to emasculate him on every given occasion? Or is it because of Peeta's apparent "love" for me that Gale feels threatened?

My eyes shut as I try to make some sense of everything, altering between the two very different spaces that house Peeta and Gale. It's only then that it all makes sense to me; neither one of them can co-exist together in my life, which means that I have a choice to make.

Peeta or Gale?

Which one do I owe more? Peeta, the kind hearted boy who fed me when I was most in need; who I will never stop owing because some things just cannot be bartered for. Or Gale, my best friend, my companion and forever, my cousin who I could never have a future with, even if I wanted to.

My eyes spring open at my last thought.

"…Even if I wanted to…"

Which means one thing; with any conscious control from my brain, I've already made my choice.

And I won't falter in telling him anything anymore.


End file.
